


Fires at Midnight & Other 2015 TGS Advent Challenge Short Fic

by BourbonNeat



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Christmas, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, Romance, Writer's Block, holiday cheer - by which I mean wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonNeat/pseuds/BourbonNeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various Top Gear droubles and other short fic from the 2015 TGS Advent Challenge, along with short fic from various other challenges, previously unposted to AO3.</p><p>Ratings and pairings vary, and are indicated in the chapter title. Most are holiday themed. More fic will be added if I finish anything else for this challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fires at Midnight - James/Jeremy, PG

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is fiction. It never happened and is not meant to imply anything about the people featured in the story. Complete unreality from a fanciful mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2015 TGS Advent Jeremy Week Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘Fire’.

Jeremy gazed into the fire and sipped at his wine. The rosé was now a bit on the warm side, which muted some of the sweetness and brought out a more pronounced… other flavor that reminded him of, well, something. Right, clearly there wasn’t a column in that either.

James stirred on the sofa behind him, chuckling quietly over something in his sleep. Smiling, Jeremy leaned his head back until it was resting against the sprawl of soft, stripy jumper and just breathed in. The words weren’t flowing tonight so much as drifting, memories and ideas meandering about his brain in a slow, pleasant haze. Usually he’d be panicking over this. But here, tonight, taking a forced slower approach felt more like a delicious indulgence than cause for concern.

Even so, fire, warmth, light, there had to be a column in this somewhere.

All of their travels.

His daft, inverted fire circle in Australia.

Setting the caravan on fire all those years ago and laughing their arses off at the ridiculous, utterly brilliant idea that this was work.

He’d fallen in love with James by firelight, actually. Well, finally realized it anyway.

Every night around the campfire in Botswana, drunk on the conversation and camaraderie as much as the beer, he’d felt such intense waves of affection for both his best mates. But the feelings prompted every time he caught sight of James’ smile in the warm glow of the fire, or the sound of his unmistakable laughter, were something altogether deeper.

Not that he’d acted on it then, naturally. No, that had taken another year of longing and faffing about. And, oddly enough, one more fire.

Jeremy set his glass down on the coffee table to type:

> _Paris. Venice. Lake Como. Perfect settings for seduction all. And yet, the most romantic first kiss I have ever shared happened in city so frightfully dull that I can’t even be bothered to remember the name. But here’s the thing. The hotel room had a working fireplace, and that is the sort of romance even I can appreciate._
> 
> _I concede that the bloke I was kissing might have had a bit to do with it. Sharing his name here would be ungentlemanly, so I shall refrain. Except to say that it begins with a J. And ends with Ames May._

There _was_ a column in this – sort of a brilliant one actually, even if he couldn’t use it. _Although._ If they ever decided to share their news publically, the idea of making the announcement in his column in a seemingly throwaway aside appealed to him a lot more than it probably should.

“I know that laugh,” James said fondly, voice thick with sleep. “Already counting how many poorly spelled letters of outrage you’ll receive?”

“Something like that,” Jeremy said, leaning back against him again, smiling as a warm hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Should use my office,” James yawned. “Or at least the kitchen table. Better for your back.”

Jeremy turned his head to rest against James’ hand. “No. I’m perfectly comfortable right here.”

Hmm, ideal locations to write? Perhaps there was a column in that.


	2. Incendiary - OT3, PG-13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2015 TGS Halloween Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘Fireworks’.

They spark off one another constantly, on the track, in the studio, and on the road in locations around the world. Their words flow quickly and easily, burning with enthusiasm, crackling with wit, exploding into infectious laughter, as the chemistry sizzles between them.

Occasionally things actually do catch on fire. At times, this is even intentional. But the real fireworks happen off camera.

Smoldering looks kindle desire, as hands and lips burn their way over warm skin, finding all of the secret places that make each other gasp and writhe and moan. Fervent kisses prove incendiary, as touches grow more heated. Passions ignite in a shuddering climax before relaxing into a comfortable glow. Simmering just beneath the surface once again, waiting for the next spark.


	3. Christmas Apart - James/Jeremy, PG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2013 TGS Advent Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘Christmas Letters and Cards’.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, but in Hammersmith James struggled to find holiday cheer. He wasn’t really alone at Christmas, he reminded himself. He and Jeremy were simply apart. Alone versus apart, a subtle but important distinction that James had no trouble making during the day, but was finding increasingly difficult to discern as Christmas Eve blurred into the wee hours of Christmas morning.

Despite what the papers said, Jeremy’s divorce was amiable. He and Francie had been more friends than lovers for years and both handled this latest change in their relationship with the same practicality, caring regard for one another, and love for their children with which they’d handled every other.

Next Christmas, James thought with a smile, he and Jeremy would go to Chipping Norton together. In fact, by next Christmas, Francie’s boyfriend would likely have moved in. But the adults were in agreement that, with the ink on the decree absolute still fresh, the children had endured enough changes for one year and should enjoy their Christmas with both Jeremy and Francie at home. Their parents emerging from separate bedrooms would hardly be new, but the more relaxed smiles on their faces would surely be a welcome change.

The decision was responsible, adult, and loving, and James approved with all his heart. Being the right thing to do, however, did not make him any less alone for Christmas. Apart, James reminded himself again. Apart. Oh well, he thought, if this didn’t qualify as late at night and feeling philosophical – and, yes Oz, lonely – then James wasn’t sure what did.

Opening the liquor cabinet in search of _Glenmorangie_ , he was surprised to find a Christmas card propped up against the whisky bottles. The handwriting inside was unmistakably Jeremy’s and the message? Well that was unmistakably Jeremy as well:

> _I loved you for years before either of us ever said the words._
> 
> _I loved you before I was brave enough to admit it to myself._
> 
> _I’ve loved you through bad times and I’ve loved you through brilliant times._
> 
> _But I don’t know if I’ve ever loved you more than when you packed my bag and insisted that I spend Christmas morning with my children._
> 
> _You were wrong about one thing though. You said ‘home’ with my children, but my home is with you._
> 
> _Happy Christmas Slow, the last one we’ll spend apart. Now try to get some sleep. As soon as I am home, I intend to thank you for this present properly and if you think I’m letting you out of bed at all on Boxing Day, you’re wrong again._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Jeremy_

More touched than he could express, James reread the card several times before tucking it into the pocket of his dressing gown with a fond sigh. It was soppy, but he wanted to keep Jeremy’s words close to his body.

He shut the liquor cabinet, whisky untouched. Now that James thought about it, a cup of tea sounded even better.


	4. Who Needs Champagne? – OT3, PG-13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2013 TGS Advent Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘New Year’s Eve’.

With mere moments left of 2013, the traditional New Year’s Eve countdown had begun throughout the country. But while a certain house in Hammersmith was filled with a celebratory air, it remained uncharacteristically quiet given the amount of footwear strewn haphazardly near the door.

One long black wool coat, with a comfortably worn in look about the elbows, hung from the coat rack next to an expensive looking blue cashmere scarf, and another, trendier looking scarf in mottled earth tones. They kept company with a brown leather jacket and the rest of the rack’s more regular residents. The rail of the staircase was draped with motorcycle leathers and a helmet lurked nearby.

A few partial takeaway containers of cooling curry and rice sat on the kitchen counter next to a collection of empty beer bottles that, while still impressive, was definitely smaller in quantity than it would have been four or five years ago. In the living room, near an open bottle slowly warming to room temperature, three flutes of champagne bubbled away untouched on beer mats filched from James's local.

The aging sofa sat empty, save for two hastily discarded jumpers, one of which hung off the arm, dangling into a small pile of socks and t-shirts on the floor.  A blue striped jumper and a third t-shirt, removed more leisurely, sat folded neatly on the table. The sofa cushions, on the other hand, were decidedly askew.

Three pairs of jeans trailed up the stairs, the third cast off, whether by his own hands or another's, every bit as unceremoniously as the others. Several of the photos along the stairs leaned crookedly, as if someone had been pressed tightly to the wall in a passionate embrace – a kiss so long, so deep, so intense that even the photos’ pedantic owner felt no need to stop and straighten them. In the upstairs hall, pants littered a path to a closed bedroom door from behind which the most delicious sounds emerged.

Outside the first fireworks began to launch, heralding the New Year with an explosion of color and sound. But James, Jeremy and Richard paid them no mind, having already found a much lovelier way to ring in the New Year.


	5. Anarchy – OT3, PG

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2013 TGS Advent Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘Holiday Drink’.

The box arrived with a card that said Happy Christmas from Oz, and inside it was complete anarchy. 

James smiled with delight as he began to empty the contents onto his kitchen table. Half a case of Anarchy, to be precise, his favorite of California’s crazy red wine blends from his travels with Oz. Turning one of the bottles in eager hands, James noticed that it said Four Vines instead of the winery’s new name. His smile grew even brighter as, upon closer inspection, he realized that the bottles were the same vintage he and Oz tasted in Paso Robles.

Of course, this was at least in part a joke at his expense. Now, some six years later, this vintage was hardly the cheap wine of the people that James had championed so loudly on their trip. No, James chuckled at the thought, it was now a posh library wine from a winemaker whom the years had brought steadily more success. But even so, well done, Oz! 

James set the bottle down gently, remembering the flavor of rich red berries and pepper accompanied by that mineral, almost cordite smell, so evocative of riding the Harley out to the winery, through the heat and the dust and the deep green vines, growing in moist dark earth, almost defiant of the tall dry grasses that mark the region. Now he had a real conundrum on his hands. Oh, not how to thank Oz. That would be easy. No, the ultimate wine lovers’ dilemma: enjoy it now or save it all for later? Not for a special occasion, naturally. That wasn’t James’ style at all. But still, once you’ve enjoyed a bottle of wine, it’s gone, so it’s best to consider these things. 

“Jaaaaaaaames,” came a fond Clarkson whine from the living room. “Did you get lost on your way to the door?” 

“Yeah, what’s keeping you?” Richard’s voice chimed in. “If that was a delivery man with new spanners, you can sort and name them later. We’re desperately low on wine in here!”

“Impatient pillocks,” James muttered affectionately and just loudly enough to be heard.

Well then, dilemma solved. Good wine should always be shared with the ones you love. Laughing, James gathered three bottles in his arms and headed for the living room. He paused after a few steps and glanced longingly back at the table. Eh, no matter. He could easily come back for more if they finished these.


	6. Comfort and Joy - James/Jeremy, PG-13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2015 TGS Advent James Week Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘Carols'.

James’ earliest memory is of music, sitting in his mother’s lap for Nine Lessons and Carols while the melodies swirled around them; perfectly ordinary voices becoming something almost otherworldly when joined together in song.

Cradled in her arms, he listened to her lovely alto voice blending in with the others above his head, to the more distinct sound of it resonating in her chest, deeper and richer than any of the others, where his sleepy head rose and fell with her breathing. It was music he could feel as much as hear, interspersed with the sounds of her breath in the pauses, with her heartbeat and his.

He was far too young to put the thought into words, but if love had a sound, he was certain it was this.

*** * * * ***

The cause or a consequence, who can say, but for the rest of his life James’ ear is drawn to all things musical. And although he seldom thinks about it consciously, the sounds he loves the most are invariably sounds that capture some aspect of the first one he remembers. Certain pieces of music he likes to lose himself in. Especially fizzy engine noises. A purring cat. His little Honda motorbike, on those rare occasions he has the engine perfectly tuned.

One particular foghorn voice, and the warm laugh that frequently accompanies it. This last, even though he spends years reminding himself that the man in question is off limits.

Fortunately for James, Jeremy is contrary in most things and especially in this. 

*** * * * ***

Lying in bed, wrapped in Jeremy’s arms, he can’t stop smiling. Even amidst all of the joy of initial exploration, of mapping each other’s bodies with hands and mouths, this felt far more like coming home than a first time. James traces his fingers through damp chest hair, idly following Jeremy’s heartbeat – nearly normal now after their exertions, but not quite – and presses his lips where the rhythm is strongest.

He should feel embarrassed by such a soppy display, but somehow he can’t bring himself to mind. Not when Jeremy can’t seem to stop touching him either and there is something just as tender in the way his hands caress James’ back over and over, as if he were trying to commit each contour to memory. James raises his head for another kiss, but as soon as he meets Jeremy’s eyes they both start laughing, pure happiness tinged with a bit of wonder, and somehow it’s perfect.

James kisses Jeremy’s neck instead, up near the soft jawline where the lines of his throat vibrate with mirth, before settling back down against him, still shaking himself. He has always loved the sound of their laughter blending, but to actually feel it bubble up between them as they lie tangled together, his ear cradled against Jeremy’s chest, is utterly gorgeous. Wonderful and silly and beautifully them, interspersed with the sounds of his heartbeat and…

James gasps when he recognizes it: the sound of love, played in a different key.


	7. In Good Hands - OT3, R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fic for the 2015 TGS Advent Richard Week Dribble/Drabble/Drouble prompt ‘Birthday'.

Oh yes, hands. Generous, much loved hands caress every inch of his body. Teasing, tantalizing, delivering, until Richard is vibrating with pleasure, moaning and gasping in the dim light of the bedroom.

James is strong and solid against his back, clever hands sliding over his chest and down his sides to grip his hips before stroking their way back up. Jeremy’s big, playful hands move his thighs apart effortlessly, making him shiver deliciously even before that wicked mouth sinks down onto his cock. Richard is too far gone already, completely undone by their ministrations, to decide what he wants to do with his own hands, reaching out for both of them at once. For strong thighs, broad shoulders, soft hair.

“Happy Birthday,” James murmurs into his ear, voice low and silky. His breath is warm against Richard’s skin as he presses a tender kiss to his temple before his lips travel along Richard’s neck in search of – Oh God! – that spot.

Jeremy's own well wishes are, of course, muffled, every mumbled, barely intelligible syllable sending a new jolt of sensation straight through his cock. When they meet Richard’s, his eyes sparkle with an intoxicating blend of mischief and lust.

And this isn’t so very different – apart from the birthday wishes of course – from what they might do, what they so often do, whenever they find themselves together in the same part of the world with time and a bit of privacy. But he wouldn't want to celebrate any other way.


End file.
